


Wicked Game

by TinyPineTrees



Series: One Shots AU [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Period Typical Homophobia, Repressed Emotions, Slow Dancing, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22537378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyPineTrees/pseuds/TinyPineTrees
Summary: Tommy and Alfie share a quiet dance in a dirty bar.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Series: One Shots AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622716
Comments: 23
Kudos: 125





	Wicked Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mafaldaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mafaldaz/gifts).



Tommy inhaled sharply as a roar of laughter burst from the bar, echoing through the cramped closet. Drunken footsteps passed outside the door, slurring a song and lingering briefly before disappearing with the noisy splash of spilt beer. Tommy’s fingers clenched in Alfie’s hand, and his feet stuttered gracelessly. 

Alfie hushed him with a soft sound, and loosened Tommy’s grip gently. He raised his arm and twisted him with a slow arc, forward and backward, smiling when Tommy followed his lead. 

The floor ached beneath their feet, worn and soft from years of misuse. A grimy closet in a damp pub. The heavy scent of malt beer hung in the air, drifting in the dust that floated past them. 

-

_‘Do_ _you like dancing?’ Alfie asked, eyeing the stained and warped dance floor. His muted voice barely discernible from the wave of conversation flowing over them._

_Tommy raised an eyebrow, blowing out a stream of smoke as he glanced at the rowdy bar._

_‘We can go somewhere a little more private. Go on, give it a try.’ Alfie said following Tommy’s gaze._

_Tommy tilted his chin, feeling this would end poorly regardless of privacy. He did want to dance though, he loved dancing._

_‘How will they know? You plan on telling them?’ Alfie clicked his tongue as he watched the crowd._

_‘One dance.’ Tommy nodded._

-

One dance. One dance in one closet. 

Alfie’s thumb rubbed comforting circles just above his waist, holding him as the music in the pub grew. 

“You like dancing then, eh?” Alfie said in his ear, his beard tickling Tommy’s face. Tommy shut his eyes, burying his face into Alfie’s neck when the old floor croaked as their feet brushed over top. “It was a guess, but,” his voice bubbled in his chest, and a shy flush dusted over his cheeks. “You seemed the type.” 

Tommy nodded slightly and slid his fingers through the fabric near Alfie’s shoulder. Cotton, turned soft as silk as time wore into it. 

The dim light above them hummed and flickered, dropping a pale golden glow over Alfie. It brightened his eyebrows and the sharp line of his nose, but wasn’t strong enough to reach much lower than that. 

Tommy would be lying if he said his heart didn’t pound in the sputtering seconds between light and dark. Tunnels and reputations spun in his mind and thundered in his heart. 

If someone found them-

“Eyes on me now pretty thing,” Alfie muttered. Tommy frowned at the pet-name, watching as Alfie’s eyes flashed knowingly in the flickering light. The hand above his waist was firm as he spun on his heel and gently guided Tommy along. “Have to save these moments, don’t I?” Alfie asked. 

“Save them?” Tommy’s voice cracked from disuse as he leaned back. 

“Right, yeah. Save them,” Alfie’s thumb brushed over the top Tommy’s knuckles and they stepped to the left. “For when I’m lonely.”

Tommy scoffed and laid his head back against Alfie’s shoulder. 

“You don’t get lonely.” He said, hiding his eyes in the fabric of Alfie’s shirt again. 

“I don’t get lonely?” Alfie parroted, his voice rumbling with a silent laugh, lulling Tommy as they swayed. His hand slid up Tommy’s side, slipping over his shoulder and into his hair, carding through the longer strands on top. 

“I think you talk enough to keep yourself company.”

“Think I like the sound of my own voice, do you?”

“I do.” Tommy agreed. Alfie’s hand dropped slowly back near his waist. 

Alfie chattered enough to fill a book, but Tommy doubted he’d have accepted that. 

“By your own logic, you must be very lonely then, eh?” Alfie’s foot slid neatly to the right, guiding Tommy with him. 

A bottle broke loudly outside the closet, and laughter and pounding soon followed, rattling their light bulb. Alfie was thrown into bright relief for a brief moment before the light died entirely. 

Tommy shuddered, but Alfie’s hands tightened quick enough. 

“Just a dark closet, isn’t it?” Alfie’s heavy hand slipped up Tommy’s side again, this time taking ahold of the grip Tommy had on his shoulder and bringing his hands to Alfie’s chest. “One dark closet.” 

“A dark-” Tommy stuttered and let Alfie pull him as close as he could. “Just a-” He tried again as his heart drummed in his chest. Footsteps skittered near their closet door again. Someone fell half into it, landing solidly on the heavy wooden frame. Tommy’s hands trembled as something swung over their heads, whistling like static and he clutched desperately at Alfie. 

He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave now and escape the dark. That wasn’t an option though. He couldn’t just go, not without being seen by anyone near the door, and not without Alfie being seen with him. 

Alfie pressed a whiskery kiss onto his fringe. His lips brushed down over his forehead and over his eyes, before finally meeting Tommy’s. 

“Close your eyes,” Alfie whispered, sliding their hands back into position and turning to the left. Tommy coughed, ignoring Alfie. He felt choked, and it only seemed to grow darker as the walls closed in.

It was harder to follow his footsteps in the dark. The hand near his waist was soft, but heavy and large and it grounded him against the floating terror, rising in his chest. 

“Close your eyes sweet thing,” Alfie said again. “Try to breathe slower.” 

The floor groaned in his ear, taking up all the space in the small room. It tore into his skin and crawled over his bones, screaming that they’d be found. He shouldn’t have agreed to dance. He shouldn’t have come out with Alfie. Their peaceful space had been destroyed in seconds, transformed into a tunnel deep within the earth, threatening to cave beneath the weight of judgement. 

“Breathe Tommy.” Alfie whispered in the dark. 

“I can’t,” Tommy tried, soundless on shaky breath. 

“Sure you can, smart thing like you,” 

He didn’t feel as smart as Alfie thought he was. If he was half as smart as Alfie thought, he’d have stayed outside in the brightly lit bar, trying to swallow as much whisky as he could. When he drank, his throat couldn’t be filled with mud. Nor could it be filled with unspoken wants carving themselves into his chest. 

Alfie breathed loudly for a moment, breaking through Tommy’s panicked thoughts. His large hand crept over Tommy’s side, massaging his rib cage, helping his racing breath slow. 

“There you go,” He heard Alfie say. “Just like that.” 

Alfie reached higher, and the soft pad of his fingers pressed over Tommy’s eyelids, closing his eyes for him. 

“Now, follow my lead, eh?” Alfie said quietly. His thumb brushed over Tommy’s face, smoothing the creases pinching between his eyebrows. “You know what they say about this dance?” He asked, his left hand lifting Tommy’s right as he lead them back into the steps. 

Tommy shook his head, his feet faltering as Alfie turned them slowly. He couldn’t fully ignore the shuddering nerves skittering under his skin. 

“It’s a Spanish phrase, but,” Alfie started, his voice quiet “I’ll tell it to you in English,” he breathed slowly and held Tommy closer, silently reminding him to keep breathing. “They say, it’s a sad thought, that can be danced.” 

The hand at his waist climbed higher around Tommy’s back, spinning them in place again and holding Tommy as their feet slid back and forth over the floor. Tommy’s breath hitched and he stumbled slightly, his fingers clenching unconsciously in Alfie’s hand. He pushed himself closer still, fully sinking into Alfie’s embrace. 

“I think I agree,” Alfie said, his voice dropping awkwardly as his hand clutched at the back of Tommy’s waistcoat. His fingers tightened around Tommy’s hand as well, firm, but soft. 

Tommy’s eyes slid open, light headed, but curious of what shook Alfie. 

“Eyes still shut lovely thing,” Alfie murmured, his fingers tapping gently at the back of Tommy’s hand as he moved them through the closet. “Follow my lead, alright?” 

Tommy’s eyes fell shut again, this time of his own volition. 

“Just keep breathing, don’t worry about the steps.” Alfie said. 

The room felt mildly larger after that, and seemed to have a bit more air. When Tommy tripped or stumbled, Alfie caught him, and took them fluidly into the next steps, never letting him go. His strong hands grounded Tommy, and kept him from sliding to the floor or falling into the walls. The malt scent that had hung so heavily in the air faded with time, drifting and mixing with the damp scent of the now quiet pub. Tommy slowly loosened his tight grip, easing into the steps the longer they danced. 

Alfie paused, raising his arm again and finally spinning Tommy in a last slow arc.

“There,” Alfie said, bringing their arms down gently, but didn’t let go of his hands. “That’s better now, isn’t it?” 

Tommy blinked his eyes open, finding the closet had far more light than he’d originally thought, or maybe he’d just grown accustomed to the darkness. He could make out Alfie’s beard clear enough, and his nose and eyes. 

“Reckon it’s quieted down enough we can probably escape now.” Alfie said, peeking over Tommy’s shoulder. 

“We could,” Tommy said as he twisted, glancing over his shoulder as well to note the nearly silent pub. Alfie’s warm fingers skittered in Tommy’s palms. Tommy turned back around, catching Alfie’s eyes, bright in the dark closet. In a different world, he could've gone home with Alfie. They could’ve walked arm in arm down brightly lit streets, kissed in daylight and danced among the rest. They wouldn’t have needed closets, or dark alcoves. 

They had to leave though. They couldn’t spend the rest of their lives in here. 

“We should, yeah.” Tommy nodded finally, turning away and stepping over the worn floor. It groaned less now, as though their near constant steps had mended it. He pulled the door open an inch, peering through the crack to check if it was as empty as it looked. 

“Tommy-” Alfie started, his voice cracking oddly again.

Tommy swung back around, grabbing Alfie close and kissing him hard. Alfie’s back knocked into the stack of pale wooden boxes, rattling them and tipping one over as his hands wound back around Tommy’s waist. Tommy’s hands inched upwards, winding into Alfie’s beard as he deepened the kiss. 

“This how you say thank you to all your dance partners?” Alfie asked breathily. 

“No,” Tommy huffed a laugh. “I thank them properly.” He said, pressing a last kiss onto Alfie’s lips before pulling away. 

“Nothing to thank me for love, just a dance.” Alfie said, standing up taller as Tommy backed away.

“Nonetheless, thank you, Alfie.” 

Alfie smiled sadly, and trailed Tommy quietly through the closet door.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> If fics came with ingredients, then this one is made of Chris Isaak’s Wicked Game, Mafaldaz discussing the Tango, and this video of these boys dancing- https://youtu.be/YDxHxxsOB6s
> 
> If you liked it, please leave a comment below! ❤️


End file.
